Summoning Light
over occupied world
bewildering hodge-podge of people
pushing stress where it ought not to be
in the slim rays of late day
in the splattered mess of guttered streets
a homeless man asks for a light
for a half burnt cigarette
then money for food
nerve knotted living squeezed between soiled fingers
his fingers
most shove by him like gnats late for breeding
people in pinup poses
keep silent midst foul displacement
shun soiled annoyance like shoddy prospects
does a story untold, matter?
does all humanity deserve recognition?
maybe things just fall apart all on their own
maybe once there was a time when lushness oozed like honey
from a jar
homeless man seeks a light
unflagging energy to be seen
girdled by grit
a real mission
not to wipe away self like crumbs from a plate
sometimes we move in gray clouds
a pretense, unseeing squalor
as vagabond pleas jar at comfort
our aligned security by uttering "No"
such feel good factors
defending synthetic spheres
that peer at screens
as light loses traction
Poem composed April 12, 2023
Copyright © Brian Sambourne | Year Posted 2023
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